


Steve Rogers Is A Slut For Art (And Tony Stark)

by itsallAvengers



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Artist Steve Rogers, BAMF Steve, BAMF Tony Stark, But Steve just kind of loves everything about Tony, Character Study, Everyone Loves Sleepy Tony, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, It's about Tony, M/M, Oblivious Tony Stark, POV Steve Rogers, Pining Steve Rogers, Pre-Slash, Protective Steve Rogers, Steve Feels, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve makes a list, Tony Feels, Tony Makes A Great Muse, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony can speak Italian, especially Steve, kidnappings, surprise surprise, that becomes slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-09-15
Packaged: 2018-08-14 12:37:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8014291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsallAvengers/pseuds/itsallAvengers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So what, Steve wants to draw Stark. He gets that all the time. And usually, once he's completed his sketch, he moves on. But for some reason, he just can't seem to get Stark right. And everyone knows Steve is a perfectionist- he won't sit still until he can draw that man's face with his eyes closed.</p><p>And in order to do that, he's gotta go see him again, right?</p><p>Except it kind of escalates from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Ever since Steve had laid eyes on Tony, his fingers had begun itching for a pencil and paper to capture the image.

Steve hadn’t drawn anyone since being pulled out from the ice- hadn’t even thought about it until Tony’s dark eyes had met with his light ones, and suddenly it all came back- the desperate desire to put the moment down on paper, to capture the confidence and charisma that poured out of Stark like waves. There was just something about him; the way he moved, the way he spoke and flowed and looked, it just… appealed to Steve’s artistic nature.

Then, of course, the helicarrier fight happened.

And despite the fact that Steve was snapping and snarling at Stark as they traded insults and jibes, anger and bitterness pooling in Steve’s stomach as a particular remark hit him a little too close to home- Steve just found himself more and more desperate to get himself a pencil and sketch out every frown line, each clenched fist and raised eyebrow that was thrown at him.

It was an unusual feeling. He was stuck between wanting to say ‘I’m gonna kill you, Stark!’ and ‘I’m gonna draw you, Stark! Sit _still_ , you bastard.’

 

And once the fight was over- after the Chitauri had popped by to say hello and destroy New York, and Tony had sacrificed himself without a second thought to stop a nuke from turning the entire state crispy- Steve rode away on his bike back to the apartment he was staying at, and sat down to finally quell the itch in his fingertips.

It had been a long time since he had ever drawn someone, though. The lines turned out too harsh and he couldn’t quite get the eyes right, as they failed to capture the life that should lie within them. His smile was bright, but there was no depth to it, and the dimple that Steve had noticed on Tony’s right cheek just didn’t sit right.

Steve sighed, looking down on his work. It was reasonable, at best. And maybe for some, that would be enough.

But Steve was a perfectionist. It would never be enough for him. He needed to do this right. And if he were to do it right, he needed to see Tony again. And he needed to make a list of everything he could tell about the genius, if he were to successfully get his essence down on paper.

It had always been an unusual habit of his- whenever he found his muse, he would begin to list the things he knew about them, about their character and their facial features and the little quirks that were unique to them. He’d done it the moment he set eyes on Peggy- mostly that list had consisted of:  
_1:Girl_  
_2:Girl_  
_3:She is a girl_

But despite his initial inability to function around her, the moment he had got his hands on some rough paper and a sorry excuse for a pencil, he had managed to draw her pretty well.

Better than he’d managed to draw Tony, anyway.

Obviously, this had to mean he just hadn’t gotten a good enough look at the man, and unless he wanted to live in a constant state of frustration until he was pushed into a situation with Stark again, he had to go and find him himself.

Picking up the phone by his bedside, he dialed.

 

“Hey Rogers, you’re keen. I only saw you a few hours ago- you can’t have got into another world-ending catastrophe in that time, that would… wait, what? Did you just say you wanted a tour of the tower? My, to quote a certain super solider, ‘big ugly building’? What- yeah- well I guess it would probably be a good idea- I can’t have you over now, I have some serious maintenance issues to attend to, but give me three days and I’ll be ready to show you around. Sure, yep, I’ll see you then, Cap.”

**__**__**__**

“ Bonjour, mi amigo.” Tony said, as Steve stepped out of the elevator and into the penthouse where Tony was stood.

“ You just used two different languages, and neither of them were English.” Steve observed absent-mindedly, stepping tentatively into the corridor and looking around.

The place was huge, and this was just one floor. It had obviously just been done-over, and although it was very modern and shiny, the place had a simplistic style that appealed to Steve’s old-fashioned senses. Over to his left was an open-plan kitchen, with a breakfast bar in the center and counters surrounding it. It was stood on a raised platform, and leading down from it, he could see the couches and coffee table of the living room.

“Non avete ancora visto nulla, ragazzo soldato.” Tony drawled, and Steve could only make out a few of the Italian words, but rolled his eyes anyway, stepping forward further and hanging his coat up on the rails attached to the wall.

_(_ _He speaks Italian)_

“You got this fixed up pretty quick. Three days ago, there was a Loki-shaped hole in the floor and half of your wall was missing.” Steve observed, glancing toward the place where Loki had been driven into the ground by an irritated Hulk.

“I actually wanted to keep the hole, y’know, as a memento of Loki getting his Asgardian ass kicked. I was gonna set up a little viewing area and everything- but Pepper, my girlfriend, wouldn’t let me. Plus it might make Thor cry, and no one wants that.” Tony explained, flicking buttons on the coffee machine and gesturing to Steve in offering.

_(He has a girlfriend)_

“Um, do you have any tea?” Steve asked, looking around the stocked-up cupboards and wondering how the hell Tony could find anything at all in the vast supplies he had stored.

“Tea? That’s blasphemous, Rogers. We are a coffee-drinking nation. You are being un-patriotic.” Tony scolded, as he dug into a narrow cupboard and pulled out one the many bags of coffee from its shelves.

_(Regular coffee-drinker)_

“What can I say, I had a British almost-girlfriend who drank tea like her life depended on it. I was converted.” Steve said, chuckling slightly as Tony made a ridiculous face and scuffled around at the back of one of the cupboards to find some tea bags.

“Oh shit, yeah, I forgot you knew Aunt Pegs. She drank the stuff by the damn gallon whenever she came round. Always told me if you wanted to change the world, you do it with a cup of coffee in your hand, and if you-“

“-wanted to take over the world, you did it with a cup of tea.” Steve finished, surprise etched on his face.

 

_(Tony had known Peggy Carter)_

 

Tony grinned, and it was a fond grin, full of memory and love that made Steve feel slightly bitter. He’d barely had time to fall in love with her; it seemed Tony had _grown up_ loving her.

 

“And she always had that ridiculous term of endearment that only sounded right when she said it in her English accent-“

 

“Poppet.” Steve supplied, when Tony clicked his fingers in search of the word.

 

“Yes! God, she was full of stuff like that. Possibly the most tenacious woman I’ve ever met- I also saw her incapacitate a person with a stapler and a nail-file, which was pretty much the best moment of my entire childhood.” Tony said, and Steve laughed at that.

 

Sure did sound like Peggy.

 

There was a brief moment of sadness at the memories of a person long dead, but Steve found it didn’t hurt quite so much when he was discussing it with someone else. Maybe it was the fact that this was a cheerful memory, not ones of war or loss- but after all that. When it all became…happier, again.

Seeing Tony laugh at memories of her- it softened the blow a little.

 

 

Whilst Tony was otherwise occupied, Steve took the time to take in Tony’s face, studied the way his body moved and the finer details that he had missed before, when everything had been a rush of adrenaline and tension.

His hair was vaguely neat, like he had brushed a comb through it before coming to meet Steve, but there was something that looked like motor oil streaked through a few of the strands at the back, which Tony must have missed upon his inspection. His beard was neatly trimmed and sharp, but the first few flecks of stubble were just beginning to show through, giving his jaw a faint shadow. Pink lips moved silently as he muttered to himself, chapped and distressed where Tony had been biting them. There was also a cut running from his temple all the way down to his cheek, and stitches in a spot just above his hairline.

Steve searched for the dimple that he could’ve sworn he’d seen before, but it wasn’t there at the moment. However, now he was able to notice other things, like the slight curling hair at the nape of Tony’s neck, or the freckles that ran along his arms. He had burn marks and scars dotted all about his body, and as he dipped particularly low in order to delve further into the cupboards, Steve noticed he had a double-crown, and a few strands of hair right at the center that stuck up as if they had been electrocuted.

So, to recap;  
_(4: He worked with engines)_  
_(5: Lip-biter)_  
_(6: He has curled hair, but it’s too short to see)_  
_(7: Freckles on his arms)_

They were little things, parts of Tony that most people wouldn’t glance twice at; but Steve was an artist, and besides, Tony was kind of… beautiful.

_Well shit_ \- Steve thought, abruptly snapping his gaze away.

Nope. Nope, he wasn’t going to start going down that route. Tony had a girlfriend. Tony was out of bounds. Bad Steve.

 

Once they had drunk their coffees and teas, Tony proceeded to drag Steve all around the tower, showing him every floor with a giddy excitement that made Steve chuckle. Even though he had expected it to be awkward (Steve had basically told Tony he didn’t deserve to be a superhero, and Tony had told him in reply that he was nothing more than an experiment. To be honest, Steve had expected to skip straight past awkward and on to heated arguing again), Tony had simply filled any silence with animated talks about the design plans and descriptions of the tower, flailing his arms all over the place as he explained.

_(Talked with his hands)_

Surprisingly, Steve found himself actually enjoying Tony’s company. At first, the visit had been simply to get a better look at the person his mind seemed so intent on drawing- but now, as he was bent double, laughing over a story Tony was telling him, he realized that this was the first time he had laughed like that since the forties.

And it was Tony doing that to him.

_(Tony was funny.)_

And when the time came for him to go, a good five hours later- Steve left feeling better than he had in months.

**__**__**__**

Steve tried again, that night. He filled pages and ages of his book, trying to get it right. Trying to get Tony’s personality down on the paper, trying to make the light in his eye shine in the right way and the curl of his lip look more natural.

It. Still. Wouldn’t. Work.

Groaning in frustration, Steve threw down his sketchpad and stuck a finger up at it, before flopping on to his bed and falling asleep. He would try again tomorrow; maybe then it would turn out a bit better.

But tomorrow swung around, and after three more futile attempts to draw Tony’s hands, he stood up and left his sketchpad behind. He needed a distraction, he needed to punch something. There was too much pent-up energy in him to focus on anything else - a side effect of the serum. But the bags at SHIELD were shitty, and their gym was quite frankly pathetic. He didn’t feel like going on a run, the area he lived in wasn’t exactly scenic and he never liked running on the streets.

There was one other option, however.

_“I’ve built a gym a few levels down from my penthouse. It’s brilliant, if I do say so myself. Everything you could want, if you fancy using some of it. I’ve already got Natasha and Clint coming in there to spar and train, when they’re not coming in purely to steal my food, that is. I even think I’ve built a punching bag able to withstand some of your hardest hits. You’re welcome to test that theory, if you want. Door’s always open for you.”_

That would be perfect, to be honest. He was tired of spending his money on a punching bag every two days.

And if it meant he got to spend some more time with Tony, then that was just an added bonus.

 

**__**__**__**

 

Somehow, he’d ended up living at the tower.

He honestly had no idea how it happened. One minute, he was crashing on one of the many guest beds situated around Tony’s penthouse after a particularly rigorous training exercise with Natasha- the next, his stuff had mysteriously found its way into said 'guest room', and became 'Steve’s room' instead.

The same was said for Clint, and Bruce and Natasha. Even Thor had a room where he stayed in when he wasn’t between Asgard or New Mexico.

_(Tony was ridiculously generous)_

“Tony- how did all my things end up in your house?” Steve asked, walking into the kitchen where Tony was sat on the corner of the countertop, sipping at his second coffee of the morning and staring, half-asleep, at the tablet in his fingers. It was obvious he hadn’t been to sleep at all, which meant this was the fourth day in a row where Tony had been awake.  
( _Tony was an insomniac)_  
He was working on something for Clint, Steve knew that much- but despite his abundance of caffeine and ridiculous sleeping patterns, he could tell that the four days without rest was taking it’s toll. Tony could barely keep his eyes focused.

“um…you sleepwalk?” Tony tried, smiling weakly and rubbing a palm against his eyes whilst stifling a yawn.

Steve pushed down the part of him that was desperate to just bundle Tony up in his arms and kiss every inch of his body because _(Sleepy Tony was the fucking cutest Tony ever)_

_Tony still has a girlfriend. A very lovely, very terrifying girlfriend named Pepper Potts who was not to be fucked with. Do not be an asshole._

“Tony- you need to get some sleep. Look, you’re making Steve antsy.” Bruce said from behind him.

“Bruce. Brucie-bear. Bruuuuce. No. I need to…these designs… some SI shit…other stuff…Pepper’s gonna be mad.” Tony mumbled, but he did nothing to try and fight when Bruce gently pulled the tablet from his grasp and removed the coffee from his grip as well.

“I’m sure Pepper isn’t going to be upset that you’re getting sleep. It’s been four days, by my count. That’s not healthy- even I couldn’t do that. Come on, Tony.” Steve said, stepping forward so he was eye-to-eye with his exhausted friend.

At this angle, with the sun catching his eyes at just the right angle, Steve noticed

_(There were flecks of gold in Tony’s eyes)_

Steve had to quickly look away to keep himself from staring, but made sure to remember what he’d seen. It would help with his Tony-drawings, which he was slowly but surely getting better at. It had been almost a month now, so it was about damn time.

 

“Tony, are you ready yet? The jet’s taking off in half an hour, and you agreed that for once we’d manage to go on a holiday that didn’t end up in you arriving to it three hours late fo- oh.” Pepper said, walking through the doors dressed in what could almost be described as casual (but with Pepper, nothing ever looked casual, really), and looking at the three of them with mild surprise.

“Hello Bruce, Steve. I didn’t know… I didn’t know you’d moved in.” Pepper said quietly, and Steve could see the flash of hurt that crossed her features as she drew nearer.

Instantly, Steve felt guilt coil around him. He supposed that Pepper technically lived here too, despite the fact that she was constantly away for work, and so the fact he had pretty much just invited himself into her home was awful, he should’ve known better-

“No, Steve, don’t give me that look, I didn’t mean it like that. You’re welcome in the tower, you know that very well. It’s just…I was just surprised, that’s all.”

The _‘Tony didn’t tell me’_ was left unsaid.

She cast a glance around Steve, toward Tony, who was trying to look alert and smiling as he jumped down from the counter, but fumbling the landing and falling face-first into Bruce’s arms.

“Hey, Pep, I’ll be right there, don’t worry. Just give me a minute, sorry, I don’t know where the time went, honestly one minute I was looking at 6am and the next it’s 9:34 and you look mad and I’m sorry, fuc-“

“Tony. It’s okay. I’m just gonna- I’m gonna wait in the car, okay?” Pepper said quietly, and Steve could see that there was something wrong- she looked so sad for a moment, before turning away and walking back out of the doors she came in through.

Obviously, even a sleep-deprived Tony could tell too, because he was running a hand through his hair agitatedly and stumbling toward the door, muttering under his breath about fucking up and being an idiot, and Bruce cast Steve a concerned look before turning back to Tony and hurrying after him, with Steve following behind.

“Hey, Tony…is everything okay? With you and Pepper?” Steve asked quietly at Tony’s side.

He heard Tony growl, a warning for him to stay back, like a dog snapping at a hand that came too near, and he pushed himself upright, turning away from both Steve and Bruce as he picked up the bag that had already been left packed at the foot of the door.

_(Tony grabbed the arc reactor when he was feeling defensive)_

“It’s none of your fucking business, Rogers. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go to Venice with my beautiful, wonderful girlfriend. Don’t fuck up the house or blow up New York while I’m gone.” Tony said brusquely, before slamming the door behind him and leaving a bewildered Steve and Bruce behind him.

 

**__**__**__**

 

Steve typed in the emergency code for Tony’s workshop, after waiting for the man to surface for fifteen hours and seeing nothing of him.

Tony and Pepper had been gone for five days. When Tony had got back, he had gone straight for the workshop and hadn’t come out since. Steve had no idea what had happened- but he was betting it wasn’t good.

Walking into the workshop, the smell of alcohol hit him like a wall, and it was obvious the place had been trashed. The only things that remained fully intact were DUM-E and the rest of his helper-bots.

As Steve swept the room for his friend, glass crunched under his feet, and he glanced down to see a broken bottle of what looked to be whisky under his feet. The soles of his boots were wet with the alcohol, and it looked like Tony had thrown the bottle at the wall whilst it was still full.

“Tony?” Steve called out gently, as his gaze stopped upon a body that was hunched over the remains of his desk. It was completely still, and Steve’s blood ran cold at the implications- alcohol poisoning, injury, _death_ -

“Wondered how long it would take for you to use the emergency code.” Tony muttered, his voice utterly flat and blank.

Steve’s heart felt like it started beating again, and he sighed a breath of relief as he slowly advanced forward. At lest Tony wasn’t dead, at least Tony was healthy enough to talk. That was good.

He glanced toward the desk where Tony was sat, noticed the positioning of all his stuff, the direction his coffee-mug handle was facing, and realized

_(_ _Tony was left-handed)_

But that wasn’t important right now. What was important was the fact that, the closer Steve got, the clearer Tony’s face became. The easier it was to see the slightly heaving shoulders, the hand that was covering a mouth letting out choked off sobs, the eyes that remained opened but had tears falling from them, dripping off his cheek and on to the desk below.

_(Tony cried silently)_

“Oh, Tony,” Steve said, abandoning caution and hurrying the rest of the way to pull Tony into his arms. He didn’t care that he and Tony might not be friendly enough with each other to do this, or that Tony might shout at him and pull away.

Tony was crying. Steve wasn’t going to sit and do nothing.

Under his arms, he felt Tony stiffen underneath him, and hands went up to try and pull away- but then something broke within him, and he slumped into Steve exhaustedly, his head hidden in Steve’s shoulder.

“I ended it. I left. We weren’t…we weren’t happy any more. Too- too much had changed. But… _fuck_ , I thought she was my, I thought she was the one, you know? And now she’s- _she’s gone_.” Tony choked out, gripping at Steve’s shirt as he desperately tried to hold himself together.

Steve said nothing. Because nothing would help. Tony had lost Pepper, and Steve could promise him that it would get better, that he would be okay one day, but he knew all-too-well that right now, in the immediate aftermath of loss, all the words just sounded like empty promises. It was only later, when the burning pain died down to a dull ache that other people’s assurances would actually sink in.

“I got drunk. I always get drunk.” Tony admitted quietly into Steve’s shirt, and Steve felt him tensing up in his arms, as if expecting retribution for his admission.

“Why?” Steve asked.

Underneath him, Tony’s entire body went still, as if he were completely thrown by the question. Then, there was a tiny shrug.

“Don’t know. It’s just…always been there. Howard was pushing it in my face when I was six; telling me it’d make me a real man, make me strong. Look what happened instead-“ Tony cut himself off to laugh bitterly, and the last grains of respect Steve had been hanging on to about Howard fell away at that moment.

_(Tony was a borderline alcoholic. And it was probably Howard’s fault.)_

The sad thing was- now Steve thought about it- he couldn't imagine a social event where Tony hadn't had a drink in his hand. Parties and fundraisers and galas; Tony always seemed to be drinking. Everyone else did too, though, so he'd never really questioned it. But Steve had seen the other side too. the late-night binges where Tony could barely stand, and the empty bottles that lay around a room after particularly bad night's sleep.  
Steve really should've seen it. He knew well enough what drink could do to a man, his own father being the best example. He never wanted that to happen to Tony.

"Then stop. Don’t let him have that hold over you. You are a hero, Tony. You save the world every two weeks and the city every two days- maybe it’s time to start saving yourself.”

“I can’t”

“Why?”

“Because I’m not that strong, Steve.”

“Bullshit. You remember the time in Prague, when I went down, and neither of us was on Avenger-duty, so we didn’t have any weapons or suits? You not only managed to take out the people who had hurt me, but you somehow managed to drag me for half a mile, back to safety. You had two fractured ribs. Don’t tell me you aren’t strong, Tony, because you’re one of the strongest men I have ever had the pleasure of knowing.”

“But that wasn’t about me, I was doing that for you!”

“Then do this for me too.” Steve said, his voice even and calm despite the rising panic in Tony’s own.

There was a silence that hung in the air whilst Steve thought, and he didn't really expect an answer after the second minute of quiet. But then there was a tiny, cracked little

“Okay,”

and that was it. No other words were spoken for the rest of the night- Steve simply held on to Tony as the man grieved and hoped it would be enough.

 

**__**__**__**

 

The next morning, Steve saw Tony emptying all his alcohol into the sink in the kitchen. Wordlessly, Tony handed Steve a bottle of incredibly expensive scotch, and together, they watched the contents spill down the drain.

**__**__**__**

“Draw me,” Tony said suddenly, startling Steve from the book he had been reading and causing him to give his friend a quizzical look.

They were both sat in companionable silence in the ‘den’ as Tony and Nat called it. Everyone else called it a living room. Steve had been peacefully reading his book (he was so fucking glad he had woken up in the same era as Harry Potter) whilst Tony fussed over his tablet, but now Tony had jumped from his place on the floor to draped all over Steve like an overly clingy cat.

“You draw everyone else. I see them all in your book, and they all look great. But you never draw me.” Tony complained, pouting slightly into Steve’s arm where his face was smushed.

_(Tony was a nosy bastard)_

“You’re a nosy bastard”

“Would you like a medal for your excellent observation?”

“Well I’m definitely not drawing you now, you’ve hurt my feelings.”

“I’m sorry, Steve, you are the pinnacle of intelligence and wit, I am honored to breathe the same air as your royal lungs- now can I please have a drawing?”

Steve wanted to say that he already had about thirty thousand drawings of Tony in a different sketchbook hidden safely under his bed- but that would lead to all sorts of questions that Steve was definitely not ready to answer. Because the truth was, after the fifth time at drawing Tony- it had finally turned out perfect. The eyes had held just the right amount of light in them, and his smile had the perfect depth. He’d even got the glow of the arc reactor down to a T, which Steve was very proud of.

But even though he had managed to perfect it, Steve didn’t stop.

The drawings kept coming, and the Tony-List that was hidden safely in his notebook was still getting longer.

It wasn’t even conscious, a lot of the time. Steve would start out drawing something he had seen on the street or in the park- and would end up with Tony’s hands or Tony’s eyes or the glow in his chest.

The hard truth was that Steve was simply captivated by him. His presence lit up a room the moment he walked in, and you could feel his presence from a mile away. Tony never stopped- he could hold two different conversations whilst fixing up the suit and his mind worked faster than anyone else Steve had ever known, including his father.

Tony was amazing. And Steve had somehow managed to fall in love without realizing until it was far, far too late.

 

“If you think you can sit still for half an hour, yeah. In fact, if you can sit still for half an hour, I will make you look like the most attractive drawing ever.” Steve said, shrugging and trying not to blush when Tony squealed like an excited child and wound his arms around Steve’s waist to hug him.

_(Tony had no concept of personal space)_  
_(His hair smelt like apples mixed with metal, which really shouldn’t smell as nice as Steve though it did)_  
_(The Arc reactor made a noise- but it was so quiet even Steve’s enhanced hearing could only just pick it up when Tony was this close to him)_

“Obviously, whatever I do I’m going to come out of this looking like the best drawing ever.”

“Jesus, just go sit over there and let me get started then before your ego explodes out through your head,”

“Great! You know, you’re my favorite Steve.”

“Of course I am. In the same way Thor was your favorite when he showed you that fancy piece of Asgardian tech a few days ago, or when Nat was your favorite after she threatened castration on Justin Hammer.” Steve said dryly, but unable to hide his smile as Tony shook his head vigorously.

“No no Steve, I just say that to keep them happy. You are my favorite-est. No word of lie.”

“Favorite-est is not a word, Tony.”

“yes it is.”

“No it’s- look, I’m not going to get into a debate with you about whether a word you made up is valid or not, just watch TV or something while I draw your stupid face and be quiet.” Steve said, pushing tony away so he could flip on to a blank page and begin drawing.

Of course, you tell Tony to act natural and the first thing he does is strike the most ostentatious pose he can think of.

“Paint me like one of your French girls, Steve,” Tony whispered, his voice husky and his eyebrows wiggling flirtatiously as he sprawled all over the couch.

Steve blushed again, trying to brush it off with a roll of his eyes and ignore the way his skin tingled at the sound of Tony’s voice.

“Sit like a normal person, Tony. This is not Titanic.”

“You’re no fun.”

“And yet somehow, I'm still your favorite-est.”

“Yeah. You are.” Tony said, and this time there was an underlying note of honesty in his voice, and Steve looked up to see Tony smiling softly up at him, before turning back to the TV and telling JARVIS to put something on that he liked whilst Steve got on with his sketch.

 

Half an hour, Steve had just about finished, and he had found out that  
_(Tony could not. Sit. Still)_

He had managed to remain motionless for all of thirty-seven seconds, before beginning to tap a staccato rhythm against his thigh. He was also shuffling about every few minutes, to crack his back or roll his neck or just move his arm about, it seemed he was incapable of remaining stationary.

Brushing the pencil across the page and finishing the last touches, he nudged Tony with his foot and threw the book through the air, where Tony deftly caught it between his hands and looked down expectantly.

Steve waited, shuffling awkwardly whilst Tony stared at his work. He thought he had done a good job, but tony hadn’t said anything for quite a while and there was obviously a chance he didn’t-

“This is mine forever.” Tony said suddenly, lifting it up and cradling it against his chest protectively, a look on his face that Steve couldn’t quite put his finger on. It was something like- shock?

“And by the way, I feel kinda cheated. You said you were gonna make me look good, but you drew… you drew the reactor.” Tony said, his voice going for joking and cheery but ending up just sounding flat. His thumb was tracing over the soft glow Steve had captured on the paper.

Steve stopped, confused. Of course he’d drawn it, it was a part of Tony. In fact, he loved drawing the reactor. It was fascinating, with it’s soft blue glow; a halo around Tony’s chest that was a daily reminder of everything he had managed to overcome in his past.

Steve loved it.

But then he caught the tiny grimace that flashed over Tony’s face as he glanced down at the real thing in his chest, and it clicked as Steve realized

_(Tony hated the Arc Reactor)_  
_(Tony was an idiot. It was beautiful)_

“Of course I drew the reactor, Tony. It’s… it’s _brilliant._ ” Steve spluttered, wondering what to say. He could tell him that the reactor was one of his favorite things about Tony- that the very idea of Tony managing to create something of that complexity whilst in a cave in the middle of nowhere just blew him away.

“Oh come on, Steve, it’s… I see the way people look at it. Saw the way Pepper looked at it. You don’t have to pretend.” Tony said, again going for light and airy, but only ending up with something that Steve knew was false.

“What can I say? I’m an artist. I see things in a different light. And I don’t know what Pepper or anyone else was looking at- but all I’m seeing is a…work of art.” Steve said, feeling the heat on his cheeks as he turned to fiddle with the pencil in his hands.

Tony froze for a few seconds, before chuckling a little. But it wasn’t the good kind of chuckle. It was filled with more sadness than any laughter ever should be.

“It’s a reminder of the weapons I used to make, Steve. Of the pain they caused so many people. I would hardly call the product of my own mass-destruction a work of art. This,” Tony said, tapping his middle on the glass in his chest and apparently getting angrier with every word, “this is my karmic retribution. And I’m fucking lucky I got off this lightly, with a hole in my chest and scars that made my own fucking girlfriend wince when she saw me. With the amount of death and destruction I’m responsible for, the lies and the cruelty and selfishness that I’ve shown for most of my ridiculous life, I should be dead a hundred times over. I’d deserve it.”

 

 

_(Tony hated himself)_

 

 

 

There was silence, and then Tony ran an agitated hand through the strands of his hair, standing up quickly and plastering a fake smile over his face and stepping right out of Steve’s space before he could say anything.

“Sorry, Steve. Getting way too deep there, but thank you for the drawing. It’s great, even if it does show the… less appealing parts of me.” Tony said, hurriedly walking away and into the direction of his workshop.

 

“Tony, say what you want about it- I still think it’s brilliant. To you, maybe it is a reminder of who you were. But for me, all I can see is the inspiration that led you to become the man you are now. The hero. Just- remember that. Please.” Steve said, hearing Tony’s speedy footsteps pause to listen to his words.

There was silence, an intake of breath, and then Tony was gone.

**__**__**__**

But when Steve went down to the workshop a few days later, his sketch was pinned up on the wall- and Steve’s grin was powerful enough to keep the tower running for a month, because  _(Tony actually cared about Steve's work.)_

Not that Tony seemed to notice his constant state of happiness that day, because for some reason  
_(Tony had no idea quite how much Steve loved him)_

**__**__**__**

 

It was eight am, and Steve of course, was already up and awake, having gone on a run and taken a shower, all before the sun had risen.

Outside, it was a crisp and chilly November, and the sun was just beginning to peek through the low-hanging clouds. No one else was awake, so Steve was left to appreciate the sunrise in New York alone.

That was, until their resident genius stumbled in, half asleep and shivering in his boxers and a thin tank top.

Steve rarely saw Tony without caffeine in his system. It seemed there was a cup of the stuff permanently attached to his hand, keeping his mind alert and buzzing constantly, bordering on manic once Tony was deprived of enough sleep.

But Steve could tell instantly, that this was morning-Tony. And morning-Tony was like a rare animal; everyone was constantly looking out for it, but barely ever actually saw it.

“Good morning, Tony.” Steve said, unable to stop the grin curling around his lips.

_(Tony somehow always ended up bringing out a smile in him.)_

Tony groaned, and shut his eyes, swaying slightly on his feet before moving toward the countertops and crawling on top of it sluggishly, crossing his legs and leaning his head against the cupboard as he shut his eyes.

_(it didn’t matter if there were free chairs- if they were in the kitchen, Tony would always sit in his spot on the corner of the countertops, with his legs crossed and his head leant against the cupboard. Without fail.)_

“Coffee.” Was all Tony said, and Steve rolled his eyes, but began preparing it all the same. He was an absolute sucker for morning-Tony. Although, in all fairness it wasn’t just Steve who fell under his spell. He had even seen Natasha let Tony fall back to sleep on her shoulder once before. And that was saying something, considering she had been sharpening her knife collection at the time.

He was just _so cute,_ okay? Steve looked over his messy hair, falling over his eyes and sticking up at odd angles all over the place, or the bottom lip that was always stuck out in a pout. There was a crease in his face from where he had been leaning on the pillow, and his eyes were watching Steve lazily as he prepared Tony’s coffee exactly the way he liked it.  
_(Black, with three sugars. It tasted like bitter dirt, but Tony seemed to enjoy his coffee like that)_

If Clint were here, the word ‘whipped’ would have been used. Frequently. And Steve wouldn’t even have been able to disagree with him.

As Steve shuffled about finding the special Iron Man mug Tony always drank his coffee from, he noticed Tony was shivering- dressed in only a loose fitting tank top and his underwear was bound to be chilly in November. Of course, Tony hadn’t thought about that as he had traipsed downstairs, and was now paying the price for it.

Rolling his eyes again, Steve shucked off his own jumper and wandered over to Tony, slotting himself between the man’s crossed legs as he wrapped his over-sized hoodie around Tony’s shoulders, trying to persuade him to put his arms through so Steve could zip him up.

Instead, Tony groaned and slumped into Steve’s chest, and Steve had to stifle a sigh of contentment as he begrudgingly held Tony’s arms aloft and pulled them through the sleeves.

It didn’t mean anything. Tony was a very touchy-feely person. Steve needed to tell his heartbeat to _pipe the fuck down_ before it gave something away. But the thoughts still lingered, despite his best efforts.

If only he could have this every morning. If only he could have Tony.

Once his arms had successfully been pulled through, Steve gently pushed Tony back from his chest, despite the soft noise of displeasure that came from Tony’s mouth as he did so, and began to zip the jumper together, stepping back to admire his work as he did so.

Big mistake.

_( **Tony became about 30x cuter in Steve’s clothes.** )_

Tony wasn’t exactly little, but Steve was kind of a giant- and so anything of his that Tony was wearing was going to be too big on him.

The sleeves spilled over Tony’s hands, and the wideness of Steve’s shoulders and arms meant that they were far too big for Tony’s. The entire thing hung loosely around him, and fell right down past his waist. He was completely shrouded in the cotton, and dear God, Steve really needed to say something, or at least _stop_ _fucking staring_ -

He should have stepped away, really. Out of Tony’s space, back into safer territory where he wouldn’t be tempted to press kisses along Tony’s jaw and on his temples and any available section of skin his could get his mouth on.

But Tony pulled him in again, and returned his head back to where it had been using Steve’s chest as a pillow- and all Steve’s resolve crumbled away instantly, replaced with a beautiful sense of satisfaction at Tony’s attention.

“ ‘s too early. You’ve got makeshift-pillow duty” Tony mumbled into Steve’s body, and he felt the genius sigh as Steve brought his hands up and curled them around Tony’s body, rocking him back and forth gently.

“I don’t appreciate all this ordering about, you know. I’m an important member of the community who has better things do than be your personal pillow. I’m not your slave,” Steve teased lightly, letting his chin rest on Tony’s soft hair and trying to pretend that he didn’t want this- that he didn’t want Tony. Because Tony was his friend. His almost-certainly-straight friend, who probably burst out laughing at the idea of ‘them’ being a thing.

“Not callin’ you a slave. You’re Steve. You’re my person.” Tony said, absent-mindedly tapping another rhythm on his knee.

“I’m your person?”

“Yup.”

“What- what does that even mean, Tony?” Steve asked in amusement.

_(God, he loved morning-Tony.)_

“Well, Rhodey is my person. And Pep is. Or was. Working on that. And you, which I didn’t really expect. Never had this many before. S’weird,” Tony muttered, his arms coming in to tuck against Steve’s stomach as he mumbled quietly to himself.

“So, you mean like a best friend?” Steve asked,

“No. Clint is a best friend. And Nat, and Bruce and Thor. You’re my _person_.” Tony explained, waving his hands around as if that would somehow clear things up. It probably did, in Tony’s head.

“So… family?” Steve tried, but Tony shook his head underneath him.

“No, you’re just… my person. I don’t know what it means- what is this, a SHIELD interrogation?” Tony murmured huffily, picking at the seams of Steve’s jumper.

 

“Okay. I’m your person, then.” Steve said, and Tony looked up at him and gave him such a warm smile that Steve almost gave up entirely; desperate to just let temptation get the better of him so he could finally kiss that gorgeous smile, bite at that pout, run his hands through those messy strands of hair that fell over those warm-chocolate eyes.

Stumbling back and breaking away suddenly, Steve turned toward the coffee, refusing to look at Tony’s confused face- because the man’s mind worked at a thousand miles a minute and so Confused-Tony was quite possibly even more endearing than morning-Tony.

However, even as he gave Tony his cup of coffee and watched as the energy slowly seeped back in, as his friend turned back to the normal caffeinated person he knew- his mind still wandered back to the words spoken earlier, and Steve couldn’t stop the happy smile at the thought that

_(He, Steve Rogers, had managed to become one of Tony’s ‘people’)_

 

**__**__**__**

“You still wont talk, Captain Rogers?” The man said, smiling dangerously as he leaned back on his chair.

Steve had been woken up half an hour ago by a punch to the face, and since then, discovered that somehow HYDRA had managed to grab him somewhere between The Tower and the Café he’d gone out to meet Tony at. Everything from the last hour was a hazy, drug-induced blur- but at least now he was conscious.

Conscious and pissed off, too.

He stared blankly at the man in front of him, wondering when the hell they were going to get the message that Steve was not going to open his mouth. Period. They could put him through a meat-grinder before he uttered a word to the Nazi fuckers.

“Okay. Fine. I shall have to resort to desperate measures. Bring it in,” The man said, gesturing to the guards behind him, who turned and marched off at the signal. Steve heard shouts from behind the door, and he sat there looking as bored as he could, waiting for their inevitable ‘death machine’ or whatever the fuck they had that they thought would somehow break Steve.

 

Then he watched as they brought in Tony, dragged in by his hair and tossed on the ground, spitting blood out of his mouth and barely able to sit up.

 

He quickly re-evaluated his situation, yanking at the bonds as hard as he could and jolting away from his chair in a desperate attempt to reach Tony, snarling as he was pulled back by the ridiculously strong cuffs.

“And here we have it. The ace of my sleeve, Captain.” His captor smiled again as he watched Steve strain against the chair.

_“Up_. The ace _up_ your- your sleeve…if you’re gonna say it, you might as well…say it correctly, moron.” Tony wheezed from the floor, struggling up to his hands and wiping at the blood falling into his eyes. He was absolutely battered, and yet still managed to look condescendingly upward at their kidnapper. It was quite an art.

Wordlessly, the man turned around and kicked downward at Tony’s stomach, eliciting another outraged growl from Steve and a groan from Tony.

“Listen to me, whatever the fuck your name is, I’ll-“

“Bauer. My name is Bauer.”

“Okay, Bauer- here’s the deal. The more you hurt him, the more I hurt you later. And there will be a later, I can assure you, because my team, The Avengers, you heard of them? Yeah, well they’re on their way right now. So I strongly suggest you stay the fuck away from him, do you understand?” Steve explained calmly, despite the intense urge he was getting to rip every single person who put a bruise on Tony’s body apart, slowly, painfully.

The man- Bauer, simply laughed, bending down to Tony’s level and yanking him up by his hair again.  
(Steve was going to kill him twice. He would kill him and then use Cho’s Cradle to bring him back to life so he could rip him apart all over again.)

“He’s a handsome one, isn’t he Captain? I can see why you like him. Got a bit of a mouth on him, though.” He paused, and then caught Tony on the jaw with a left hook that would’ve made Steve wince.  
There was no need. He was just doing it for the fun. The amusement of watching someone curl up around themselves and hold their eyes shut to try and bite back a scream of pain.

God, Steve was so angry right now. Whoever had hurt Tony was going to pay for it- Bauer first. He was going to make sure of that.

 

“Excuse me, I shall be back shortly. I just need some…supplies. I have quite a good little plan for you, Mr. Stark.” Bauer mused, releasing his hold and letting Tony fall back to the floor with a crack, before standing up and leaving the room with his coat trailing behind him dramatically.

Instantly, Steve was straining against the metal again, desperate to try and get to Tony, who was already half-dead on the floor in front of him. He was panicking; he could feel it as his hands shook under the ties and his breath hitched unevenly.

“Tony, _fuck,_ try not to move, you’re really hurt. Holy… fuck, I’m gonna _kill_ them- Tony, no, that is the exact opposite of what I just told you to do-“

“Shut up, Spangles, I’m concentrating.” Tony muttered, as he began crawling along the floor and toward Steve.

“On what, not dying before you reach me?”

“Yeah…pretty much,” Tony said, and he smiled a little, then winced as if it caused him pain (it probably did).

As he moved, he left a trail of smeared blood on the floor. Steve shuddered- images of Bucky on the experimenting table in HYDRA flashing before his eyes, melding into Tony’s form as he dragged himself across the floor using every last scrap of energy he had.

_(Tony was ridiculously strong, And not just in physical strength. He was the type of person who would fight to death, even if they had nothing left to give.)_

After ten painfully long seconds, Tony pretty much fell into Steve’s knees, closing his eyes and breathing heavily, the action of simply moving taking all the energy out of him. Steve took this opportunity to look Tony over and evaluate his injuries.  
There were…many.

He’d been stabbed. In the side. And his ankle looked broken. His face was pretty much just one purple bruise, and there were cuts pretty much everywhere, some of the ones on his head bleeding heavily. Steve didn’t even want to know what horrors he would find underneath Tony’s clothes, where Steve couldn’t see.

“Think you can get these bonds undone?” Steve asked, wishing that his hands were free so he could just give Tony some form of contact- so he could clutch him against his chest and not let go, or maybe just run a hand through Tony’s hair and tell him it was going to be alright.  
Even if it was a lie.

Tony was resting his head against Steve’s thigh, a weak hand gripping at the material around Steve’s waist. It was clear to see that he was at breaking point, and the amount of blood loss was terrifying- it was pooling around Steve’s feet already.

“I can give it a shot.” Tony said, his voice hoarse and broken, but determined as his shaking hands pulled themselves on to the table where Steve’s hands were tied down to and began fiddling with the re-enforced…whatever it was they were using to hold Steve down.

It was useless. Even if Tony had been at full capacity, the ties appeared to have been melded together, and they weren’t coming apart any time soon.

Gently using the little dexterity he still had in his fingers, he curled them around Tony’s hand, stopping their useless pawing.

“There’s no use, Tony. Listen, the others are coming soon, I could’ve sworn I pressed the emergency card before they managed to subdue me- we’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay. Just…please, Tony, just hold on.” Steve begged, his own voice breaking at the end.

Tony looked up at him, black eyes and bloody mouth, his hair crusty with his own blood, and he nodded his head, before resting it back on Steve’s leg.

_(Tony was beautiful. Like, really fucking beautiful. Possibly the prettiest person Steve had ever set eyes on. And he’d met Peggy Carter.)_

This was so unfair. Steve was sat here, barely bruised, whilst Tony lay at his feet, half-dead from stab-wounds and broken bones.

That should be Steve. Steve was the supersoldier. Steve wouldn’t die from those injuries.  
But Tony... Tony was only human. His skin didn’t heal from cuts like Steve’s did. He bled, he broke.  
He died.

 

The door was opened with a loud slam, and he heard Tony sigh underneath him. Again, Steve struggled helplessly against the chains, wishing that he could revert back to his pre-serum self, just for a second, so that his skinny wrist would fit through the gaps.

“Okay, now the fun can begin!” Bauer said, clapping his hands excitedly as the two guards flanking him advanced forward- and Steve hoped to god they were taking him, _please,_ him, just leave Tony alone-

Of course, no such luck.

Each guard grabbed an arm, and together they hauled Tony upwards and out of Steve’s reach, despite Steve doing his very best to hold on to the fingers his hand was gripping.

He was pretty sure a rib broke from him struggling to get himself free- but if it did, he didn’t notice.

“You see, Captain, one thing I have always found curious is that sometimes, emotional pain can be far, far worse than physical pain. People don’t seem to understand that, in order to make someone talk- you don’t necessarily have to hurt them- just the person they love.” Bauer explained, walking to the side of the room and pressing on a button at the side of the wall that caused the whole right side of the room to open up, revealing the water that surrounded them.

They were on a boat, right in the middle of a river- the Hudson, maybe. Steve couldn’t see very well from his place, but he could feel the cold wind hit him, and could imagine the temperatures of the water below.

His blood turned icy too, when he realized what those HYDRA bastards were about to do.

"No. Don't you fucking _dare_ , I swear I will end every last one of you if y-"

“So, here is the deal. Tell me the your SHIELD security code. That is al I need. Tell me this, and I will let Mr. Stark go. If you do not- well, we all know how much he enjoys swimming, do we not?” Bauer leered, as the guards shackled Tony’s hands and feet together.

Of course he did. Steve knew all-too-well of Tony’s fear of water. Tony had never said it explicitly, but he could hear him sometimes, seeing as their bedrooms were opposite each other. He could hear the blood-curdling screams that were ripped from Tony’s throat, the choking sounds that reminded Steve of a person drowning. The shouted screams, begging ‘them’ to stop, to let him go, to let him breathe.

“Tell us the code, Captain. Or say goodbye.” Bauer said, his eyes hardening as he grabbed Tony with a hand to his throat and dragged him to the edge.

“NO, WAIT!” Steve screamed in terror, holding back a choked off sob as he watched Tony widen his eyes and shake his head at Steve- despite the fact he was too hurt to even say the words out loud.

_Don’t do it_ , Tony mouthed pleadingly, as his toes scuffled uselessly for grip on the floor.

Steve kept his eyes locked on Tony, and opened his mouth.

 

People always assumed he was the hero. The man who would do the right thing, when it needed to be done. Who could put his personal issues aside and focus on the mission at hand.  
But sometimes, a bit too much Steve Rogers showed through. Sometimes, Steve was just human.

 

_(Tony, however, he was never just human. He was a hero all hours of the day, in the suit and out.)_

 

Maybe that was why, using the very last morsels of strength left in his arms, Tony wound his shackles around Bauer’s neck and pulled- tipping them both off the edge before Steve could give anything away.

 

 

 

 

“TONY!” Steve screamed, struggling against his bonds in a wild panic as he watched the man he loved silently tumble off the edge of the boat and into the icy waters below, with Bauer screaming in terror beside him.

 

Steve kept screaming, tears dripping down his cheeks as he kicked over the table and broke another finger trying to get himself free. The guards were in a panic- that much he could tell. They were shouting and yelling, gunshots were firing from outside the room- but Steve didn’t care, he didn’t care because Tony was in the water by now, and he was drowning again, just like he had in Afghanistan, and he was going to die like that, reliving his worst nightmare unless Steve could just _get himself free_ -

“Steve! Listen, it’s me, Black Widow. You need to sit still and let me get these damn things off you, if you want to go anywhere.” Came a distant, familiar voice to his left.

His head snapped up violently, vision blurred by the tears- but yes- that was a definite head of red hair, curled at the ends just as Natasha’s was.

“Tony- get…Tony’s in the water.” Steve gasped, feeling the heat on his wrists as Natasha pulled a blowtorch out of nowhere and began burning into the shackles.

“Thor’s on it.” She replied curtly, but Steve could hear the distressed edge to her voice as she said it, and Steve knew that inwardly, she was panicking. She and Tony were surprisingly close, and it seemed she held a soft spot for the energetic genius.

“I don’t…Nat, _he was so_ … I don’t know if he’s- oh, _God_ , Natasha I can’t lose him, I jus-“

“Steve, you’re panicking. Don’t. Thor’s diving after him as we speak, and we’ve got a Quinjet due any minute. He’s going to be okay.” Natasha said, speaking more to herself than she was to Steve, looking directly at him as the bonds finally snapped and his hands flew free.

Clint was firing arrows at the threshold of the room, his face set in a grim line as he took out guard after guard with brutal accuracy. Unfortunately, Bruce was away in Oklahoma for some sort of science conference, but they were just as lethal without the Big Green Giant.

Steve tore out of his seat, rushing toward the gap in the room and looking out into the murky water below. He couldn’t see any sign of movement in the waters, and he was getting ready to jump in the water and go grab Tony himself- but Natasha grabbed his arms and used his own body weight to flip him around so she was stood between him and the river.

“ _Stop it_ , Steve. Thor’s got a better chance of getting him out, and we’re all gonna be too occupied saving Tony to haul you out too. Just stay here; be there when we get him out.” Natasha ordered, and sure enough, just as Natasha uttered the words, Thor burst through the surface of the water, clutching Mjolnir in one hand and Tony’s unresponsive body in the other.

Steve felt his knees try and give out on him, but he gripped at Natasha and steadied himself before he could fall.

He wasn’t going to break, not when Tony still needed him.

Thor flew into the room just as Clint finished his work at the door, and then the whole group was there, in the room, surrounding Tony’s broken body.

Blood mixed with water, tingeing it pink as it gathered under his frame. Pulling off Tony’s soaking clothes, Steve wrapped his thick leather jacket around him instead, to try and raise his temperature just a little bit.

Clint was working on the stab-wound, pulling out bandages from his first-aid kit and wrapping the injury in gauze. Natasha had to tear herself away and deal with the last line of defense that had come barreling down the corridor, and Thor was simply cradling Tony’s head between his legs, running hands through the sopping wet hair.

Steve bent down. His cheek ghosting just above Tony’s mouth, checking for something he knew wasn’t there.

Tony wasn’t breathing. And until he began again on his own, Steve was just going to have to do it for him.

“Come on, Tony, you are not dying on me. Not today. Not ever, you fucking asshole.” Steve muttered, before bringing his mouth down on Tony’s and pushing oxygen through.

_(Tony tasted like metal. And something fruity. Maybe strawberry.)_

_Not the time for your fucking list_ \- Steve thought to himself as he pulled away and sucked in another breath and transferred it through Tony’s mouth again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

“Come _ON,_ TONY! DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE DO THIS TO ME, JESUS CHRIST!” Steve screamed, crashing his mouth into Tony’s for the fuck-teenth time, holding his nose as he pushed air into Tony’s useless lungs.

A soft hand lay down on his shoulder, gently tugging him back away- but Steve couldn’t let him go, he couldn’t give up, not on Tony.

  
Tony, who hissed at sunlight in the morning and always ended up falling asleep on one of the team’s shoulders during movie night.  
Who lived off coffee and breathed out sarcasm and was loyal to a fault.  
With freckles on his arms and hair that was slightly curled at the ends, who laughed with his nose all scrunched up and talked with his hands.  
Tony- who Steve loved, unconditionally.

He was sobbing now, deep shuddering gasps for air with his face pressed into Tony’s neck as tears fell down his face.

This couldn’t be happening. He had lost everyone. Bucky, Peggy, the Commandos.  
Not Tony too.

_Please._

 

 

 

 

 

Something moved under his face- a deep convulsion of muscles seizing up, and Steve’s head jerked upward as Tony rolled to the side and choked up half a pint of filthy river-water on to the floor and _breathed_ for the first time in minutes.

 

Steve rolled Tony’s body sideways, letting the water from his lungs trickle out through his mouth whilst rubbing comforting circles into Tony’s shoulder and trying to hold back a fresh wave of tears, happiness and relief washing over him so strongly he couldn’t even hold it in.

“ _Jesus_ , Tony, I fucking hate you so much, you absolute _asshole_ ” Steve choked out, unable to resist laughing as he saw Tony crack a tiny smile upward, recognizing Steve’s voice despite his state of semi-consciousness.

“Captain- we’ve gotta get a move on. He’s breathing for now, but his injuries are still bad, and we have to move him to the Quinjet as fast as possible,” Clint said, stringing his bow up behind his back and swapping places with Natasha as he stooped low to curl an arm around Tony’s shoulder, waiting for Steve to catch on and do the same.

There was a hiss of pain and a low groan as they did their best to gently haul Tony up, his weak body unable to even stand without aid from one of them.

“Did someone- someone just call me an…asshole?” Tony rasped, blinking through the wet strands of his hair as they fell over his eyes.

“Yeah. They did. You’re an asshole,” Steve said, grinning madly as he brushed the hair out of Tony’s face and pressed a kiss to his cut temple before he could stop himself.

But Tony simply looked oddly pleased, before passing out completely on to Steve’s shoulder with a soft release of air that sounded suspiciously like a contented sigh


	2. Chapter 2

_(Tony knew all the words to Mamma Mia, but would deny it to his dying day)_

“I hadn’t had you pinned as an Abba fan, Tony.” Natasha said, smirking slightly as she flopped down on the opposite to Steve and hitched her feet up so they were resting on Bruce’s lap.

Tony immediately ceased his quiet rendition of ‘Lay All Your Love On Me’ and turned his head sharply, his embarrassment quickly transitioning into a sneer as he waved a hand dismissively toward the TV.

“When you have people like Thor and Steve living in your house, clamoring for ridiculous chick-flick style movies at all hours of the day, some of the stuff you hear just seeps in. Genius, remember? I memorize shit, even when I don’t mean to.” He said, resting a hand over his mouth as if to try and stop himself from any further singing.

Steve grinned at Natasha, who simply rolled her eyes and turned up the volume a bit.

Steve was sprawled over the couch, with Tony by his feet and the rest of the team dotted around the room, half asleep from their latest mission. Steve was swapping between watching the film and sketching out Tony on his notebook. Now that he’d managed to perfect his drawings of the man, it had become one of his favorite things to do. Tony was so vivacious, so lively. Putting him on paper, catching an image of all that life and all that energy… it was the reason Steve loved art.

But this time, with Tony bandaged and purple from injuries, heaped under blankets to try and dispel the feeling of cold water that still lingered on his skin days after falling into the river, Steve wasn’t loving what he was drawing.

It was a good sketch, and it was capturing the scene perfectly. But that was the problem. Drawing every cut, every stitch, every mark on his body- Steve knew with every stroke of the pencil that it was him who was to blame for putting them there.

He should’ve been subtler with the way he felt. He knew that he always looked sulky whenever Tony flirted with anyone else (Bruce and Clint made fun of him enough times for him to be aware he was doing it), he knew that he hung out with Tony in too many restaurants and cafes for it to be considered a work based relationship.  
He knew that the bad guys would use it against him eventually. And they did. Right in front of Steve.

 

As if magically aware of Steve’s inner turmoil, Tony glanced over, his brow furrowing a little when he saw the strained look on Steve’s face and the harsh lines of his drawing.

Scuffling forward a little, Tony crawled over in his blanket-nest to rest himself right next to Steve, squashing up against him and letting his head rest on Steve’s shoulder, as his hand came up to move the drawing out of Steve’s hands.

“Steve. I’m okay. This wasn’t your fault.”

_(Tony was strangely perceptive when he wanted to be)_

“Tony, they used you to-“

“And if it hadn’t been me, it would’ve been some innocent civilian. You know that.”

There was a dark part of Steve that wanted to say he would’ve preferred it to have been the civilian than Tony. That he would feel slightly better watching a stranger bleed out than he would watching the person he loved.

But he didn’t.

“Come on, Steve. I’m okay. Bit beaten up, yeah, but I’ve been through worse.”

“Tony, you fell off a boat! Into a freezing river!”

Tony burrowed a little further into the crook of Steve’s neck, and Steve briefly had to remember what he was upset about when he felt Tony’s warm breath tickle at his neck.

“Yeah, but I knew you’d come get me. I’m not one for the self-sacrifice thing, after all.”

And that was an outright lie. Because Tony could pretend and fake it all damn day, putting on that fake smile and acting like an asshole so people wouldn’t think otherwise- but at the end of the day, the only reason he ever did that was because he wanted them to think that was who he was. Because that’s the type of person he himself thought he was.  
Even when it was so far from the truth, Steve couldn’t begin to describe.

He’d seen the look in Tony’s eyes when he fell. He’d felt it- the resignation, the fear, the stubborn determination. Tony hadn’t thought Steve was going to save him. He hadn’t though the Avengers would get there just in time to haul him out.

Tony had fallen with all intention of dying down there. Living out his worst nightmare.

_(Tony was the bravest man Steve had ever met. And everyone seemed to know that but him.)_

“You keep telling yourself that. Now watch the damn film, Stark- I only asked for this crap because I know you like it so damn much,” Steve said, winding an arm over Tony’s blanketed shoulders and pulling him in closer.

Tony grinned in embarrassment, moving a hand up to cover his face and stick the finger up at Steve. But he settled back down a few moments after, curled around Steve’s body and singing gently along to the songs when he thought no one could hear.

**__**__**__**

“I don’t… what do I _do_ with it?”

“You hold it, Cap. No- not like that, you’re supposed to put an arm under their- no, don’t carry them like they’re some diseased- ugh, just give it here.” Clint said, looking grumpy as he held out his hands and slid them under the tiny child screaming in Steve’s arms.

They’d just been doing their job; killing stupid monsters that shouldn’t have even been there in the first place, stopping people from getting killed. The usual.

And then suddenly a building is collapsing and Steve is holding a frightened baby in his arms, looking at it as if it were more deadly than the actual monsters they were fighting.

Luckily, Steve had found her just as the fight was beginning to die down, and Clint just so happened to be nearby to take her away from his precarious grip.  
Steve definitely hadn’t run two blocks in order to find the nearest available Avenger. That would just be stupid.

And it wasn’t as if he hated kids. He didn’t. He loved them and their little smiles and their adorable laughs- he just wasn’t _good_ with them. They were so small and fragile, and he couldn’t get the hang of understanding them. They just cried and cried and hoped you would know what to do.

Steve certainly didn’t.

And apart from being able to hold one- it appeared that Clint wasn’t too well-versed in the art of baby, either.

“Did you see her parents anywhere?” Clint asked, wincing a little as the tiny thing wailed loudly at a large explosion caused by Natasha a few blocks down.

“No. I only just had time to get inside and carry her out before the whole building went down. No-one else was in there, though, or I would’ve seen them,”

“So what, they just scarpered without their kid?” Clint asked, his voice harsh and his eyes narrow.

Steve shrugged, hoping that wasn’t the case.

“Right. I’m calling Thor in. He does the allspeak thing- maybe he’ll understand what the hell this kid is crying about, and how to make it stop immediately.” Clint muttered, hailing Thor via the comm and awkwardly patting the baby’s dark brown hair and trying to make a sort of noise that he probably considered soothing.

It wasn’t.

 

“What is this ‘wailing monstrosity’ you speak of, Clint? Must I vanquish it with a mighty blow from Mjolnir?”

“NO!” Steve yelled, grabbing at Thor’s hand before he could lift his precious hammer any further.

Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea, after all.

“Here, Thor, have a baby.” Clint said, before thrusting the child into Thor’s arms and then backing away quickly so to stop it from being pushed back on him again.

Thor looked down at the bundle in his arms, then up at Steve.

“Why am I holding a small Midgardian? And why are they in such distress?”

Steve sagged, realizing Thor’s allspeak obviously only went so far. This kid was obviously not actually talking, she was just wailing and screaming.

“Um, we thought you might know what to do with it. You’ve been alive for two centuries- surely you’ve picked up some parental knowledge.” Steve half begged, looking at Thor’s blank and slightly dazed expression and knowing that he was going to be getting a negative answer.

Sure enough, Thor shook his head and then lifted Mjolnir, and for a brief and terrifying moment, Steve thought he was going to do something stupid like try and see if the baby was worthy or not- but instead he simply held it aloft, so it dangled just in front of the child’s eyesight.

“Look at this magical instrument, little one. It is very pretty. Almost pretty enough for you to stop your tortured screams, am I correct?” Thor asked her in his loud, booming voice that only seemed to put the child even more on edge.

But the cries seemed to die down a little as she focused on the shiny grey object in front of her, and Steve sighed in relief, glad of the drop in decibels on his enhanced ears.

And of course- as soon as it looked as if the baby might stop crying altogether, Thor decides it would be a good idea to give her a demonstration of it’s power by hurling it through a wall.

It doesn’t go down well.

“The fuck is going on down there, guys? I’m hearing screams. Do you need me?” Natasha’s voice crackled to life on the comms when the baby screamed it’s loudest and most ridiculously high scream yet.

Clint quickly tapped into his comm, holding his hands over his ears and looking mutinously at the writhing child in poor Thor’s arms.

“Yes! Yes, we need immediate assistance, Widow. Come as fast as you can.” He yelled, glaring at Steve as if this was somehow his fault.

“Hey, would you rather I left it in there?” Steve asked defensively, taking the baby back out of Thor’s bewildered arms and trying to hold it naturally, rocking her in some desperate attempt at making her fall asleep.

“ I would’ve rather you’d found her goddamn parents and got them to deal with their devil-child. I’m turning my hearing aids off- this is to much for my poor deaf ears to handle.” Clint said, bringing a hand up to the side of his face and then sagging in relief as silence hit him.

“What about my sensitive supersoldier ears? Anyone give a damn about them? No,” Steve muttered, as Natasha rounded the corner with both guns in her hand and a knife resting underneath the one on the right.

She took one look at her surroundings- at the distressed baby and the clueless Avengers- before throwing her knife so it just skimmed Clint’s foot and glaring at him icily.

“Tony. The team needs you over here.” Natasha said into her comm, before turning and walking back around the corner she came from.

“Wait, you need to help us! Help me! PLEASE!” Steve called out, running after her and trying not to jolt the baby any further as he chased Natasha down.

“I am helping you. Hence, the call for Tony.” Natasha replied, looking at him as if he were stupid.

“But- but surely you can do…” Steve spluttered, holding the child out a tiny bit and hoping Natasha would give in and take him. Because surely she would be better than him, at the very least.

Natasha kept her hands firmly by her sides, raising an eyebrow dangerously.

“Do what, Captain?” She asked.

Steve knew that he should probably be careful with what he said next, for fear of castration.

“Um…being a brilliant all-rounder who not only knows how to speak forty six different languages but can also hold a baby?” Steve tried.

Natasha walked away. Steve felt as if he were about to join his little friend in a tantrum.

 

“Hey, Cap, what’s the issue. I just got a message from Widow, says you need- wait, why are you holding a kid?” Tony’s robotic voice came through the speakers above him, and Steve raised his head to the red and gold suit that was hovering in the sky, sooty and scratched from the latest disaster.

“Building collapsed. I only just managed to get her out, but she won’t stop crying. We need to, I don’t know, find a babysitter or something, you don’t happen to have any to hand, do you?” Steve asked, as Tony landed with a thump on the ground and stepped out of the suit.

Steve frowned. That was against protocol- Tony didn’t leave the suit whilst in the field unless absolutely necessary. It was just dangerous, especially when there were angry robot-people running around trying to shoot everyone.

“Steve- you need to stop holding her like a sack of potatoes. No wonder she’s upset. Look, just give her here-“ Tony said, stepping forward a bit with his hands outstretched, but Steve backed away slightly, wondering why Tony of all people was offering to hold the difficult child. Obviously, Steve knew he wouldn’t do anything stupid, but it was just the thought of Tony Stark with a child that stumped him a little.

Tony paused briefly, and Steve felt his stomach turn when he saw the look of hurt pass over Tony’s features- but it was quickly shunned away and Tony moved forward again, rolling his eyes in annoyance.

“Steve- I’m not gonna drop her. You’re holding her all wrong, look, you gotta try and make sure her butt is sitting on your forearm, just like this-“ Tony explained, hands winding around the baby and pulling her into his own body, smiling gently as the girl turned to face the new person holding her.

“Hey, hey, don’t cry now, princess- I’ve got you. I know all the loud bangs are scary and Steve over there was holding you all funny, but it’s okay. It’s all over now, all finished. We’re gonna get you somewhere nice, somewhere less…destroyed. Sound good? I’m liking that as much as you are, to be honest.” Tony talked softly, the sharp edge completely gone and replaced with a gentle mumble as he jogged the baby up and down a little in his arms.

After a few seconds of Tony soothing her, the child stopped her crying completely, replaced with happy giggle as Tony walked around Iron Man and showed her all it’s fancy tricks. She was making grabby hands at the arm of the suit, and Tony was describing how it worked in a bouncy voice as she gurgled delightedly in his ear.

Steve stood in shock, wondering what the hell was going on.

“Hey, Steve, we need to get her back to the Tower. Obviously, her parents are elsewhere, and I’m sure as hell not dropping her with SHIELD.” Tony shuddered, his lip curling in distaste.

“I…what…you…kids…tower?” Steve said.  
Wow. Intelligent.

Tony rolled his eyes, and made a _‘would you listen to this guy?'_  gesture to the new best friend in his arms, ad then started walking in the general direction of the Quinjet, doing something complicated with his free hand that caused the Suit to fly off somewhere else, probably the Tower.

“Yes, Steve, I kids. Now go sign at Clint that he needs to haul ass back to the jet- and tell Thor to stop looking so broken-hearted. It’s a baby, not his brother.”

Steve watched, dumbstruck, as Tony walked off with a spring in his step that hadn’t been there before- and wondered what the hell had just happened.

 

 

 

_(Tony loved kids. And kids loved him)_

“How the fuck are you _doing it_ , man? When I did that all she did was scream in my ear,” Clint muttered to Tony, who was sat on the couch putting little clips in the tiny child’s hair to keep it out of her face as she threw food around the room in a desperate attempt to get it to reach her mouth.

“Okay A, you’re not allowed to swear in front of her, kids pick up all sorts of shi- stuff. And B, I’m playing with her hair, not dragging my hand through it and pressing down on her skull so hard it squeezes her eyeballs out. There’s a difference.” Tony told him; placing a final little clip just above the girl’s left ear before swooping in to help a little chunk of banana reach it’s intended destination, rather than the floor.

Clint rolled his eyes, but Tony ignored him, talking in that same soft voice to the baby as he helped her lift the spoon to her mouth and slurp down some yoghurt they had managed to find in the fridge.

Steve was still sort of in shock from the whole thing. He’d never have guessed it- Tony Stark, Iron Man, genius billionaire playboy philanthropist, was good with kids?

And yet there they all were, the whole team sat around the living room with a bundle of baby smack in the middle, and Tony Stark was the only one who knew what to do with it.

And not only did he know, but he was freakishly _good at it._

(No, it did not make Steve’s heart beat a little faster and his smile a little wider. Shut up.)

“So, do we have any information about it?” Natasha asked, blunt and to the point as usual.

“Well, we know that _she_ ,” Tony threw a pointed glance at Natasha, before continuing, “is roughly seven months old, and that she likes banana and cheese, and nothing else. That’s it, really.” He said, finally giving up with the food and letting her crawl all over the couch instead.

“I feel we must give her a title- calling her ‘she’ all the time is most insulting.” Thor announced, his booming voice startling the girl for a moment. She turned around and looked to Tony for assurance, and he grinned brightly back at her, so she relaxed again and went back to her chewing of the cushions.

“Well, we can’t exactly re-name her.” Natasha countered.

“We can still just give her temporary title,” Clint suggested, shrugging his shoulders and warily bringing a hand down to pull the kid on to his lap when she crawled over to him. “I vote for Fury.” He added, smirking and ruffling her hair, messing up all the clips that had been carefully put in their place.

Everyone laughed at that, and Tony wound an arm around the little ball of human sat on Clint’s lap and pulled her back towards him, a shit eating grin plastered over his face.

 

“Fury 2.0. I like it”

 

 

 

 

“I didn’t expect it, that’s all.” Steve blurted out that evening; as he watched Tony gently bathe the squirming, giggling Fury 2.0 in the bathtub.

It looked like an explosion had taken place in Tony’s bathroom. Bubbles clung to every surface; the floor, the ceiling, Tony. There whole floor had basically been turned into a giant puddle, and Tony was soaking wet, his hair looking as if it had been dragged through a hurricane as he sat and flicked bubbles at the tiny child.

Tony looked up, jumping slightly at Steve’s unexpected interruption. For a moment, Steve felt bad for intruding- even though this wasn’t Tony’s child, and she had only been around for a few hours, Steve felt oddly as if he were stepping in on some bonding time.

But Tony smiled and gestured for Steve to come in- which he did, very gladly. There was just something about watching Tony play and laugh and look after Fury 2.0 that just…did something to Steve.

He sat on the toilet seat and made a face at Fury, who burbled delightedly and splashed a stream of water up into his face. Steve retaliated by pouring bubbles over her head, and Tony used her distraction as an opportunity to wipe a cloth over her face before she could shy away from it.

“Whey-hey, Iron Man and Captain America strike again. Sorry, Princess, but it had to be done, I'm pretty sure about 91% of your dinner ended up smeared across your face, and i don't fancy getting banana mush all over my expensive shirts, thank you very much” Tony said, and Fury 2.0 glared crossly at him, turning her back on him and his apparent betrayal of trust and toward Steve instead, much to his surprise.

Tony mocked hurt, a hand flying to his chest and his mouth opening wide.

“Usurped by Steve, already? How could you do that to me, princess, I thought we had a deal.” Tony said, and Steve just grinned bashfully before leaning down to splash more bubbles up at Fury 2.0.

Steve found it adorable how Tony talked to her, speaking to her as if she were another adult. He would chatter away, telling her about everything that was going on, explaining to her with words even Steve couldn’t understand, and she would reply by gurgling happily and making a grab for his face. It was sickeningly sweet.

 

 

 

“No one expects it, really. Guy like me, with everything I’ve done and my record in the past- they just kind of assume I run screaming when handed anything remotely attached to commitment.” Tony said, breaking the silence suddenly.

 

 

 

Steve glanced up, watching Tony as he gently pulled her out of the bath and wrapped a towel around her, until she was cocooned in fluffy white cotton. He was quiet again for another few seconds, just looking down at Fury 2.0 and smiling a little sadly.

“you thought that too, I guess.”

“What- no, Tony I didn’t-“

“Steve. Let’s not do that, huh? I saw you when I went to try and take her, at the start. I know what everyone thinks of me.” Tony said, trying for nonchalance but only ending up sounding slightly bitter.

He sighed, and pushed his dripping hair off his forehead, before grabbing at a dummy he seemingly procured out of nowhere and placed it in between her mouth.

“And I guess that’s true, to some extent. Few years ago, if you’d told me I would be living with five other people in a tower and behaving like a responsible adult, I would’ve laughed in your face. But kids… I’ve always been a sucker for ‘em. Even when the words ‘committed relationship’ were enough to have me running far, far away- I always loved children. Maybe not in a way that would make me want to have any of my own, especially not now, with superhero’ing and nearly getting killed every other day. But, just… I’ve always loved them.” Tony explained.

Steve watched him, as he lifted up Fury 2.0 and tugged some purple pajamas over her, then blew a raspberry on her belly button and watched as she giggled helplessly on the floor- and the fact that Tony obviously adored her wasn’t exactly difficult to see.

“So you don’t- want them, then? Kids, I mean. You don’t want kids?” Steve asked.

Tony laughed, but it was a sort of unhappy sound.

“Oh, hell, I don’t know. Maybe if I wasn’t such a screw-up who ruined everyone that got near me, yeah. Definitely. But, you know… the part of me that wants a kid- he’s kinda hidden under all the deep-set issues. I know what it’s like to have a dad that’s not good for his child. I wouldn’t ever- I wouldn’t ever put that on another kid. Ever.”

“Tony, you’d be a brilliant father.” Steve said incredulously, as they both stood up, Fury 2.0 curled in Tony’s arms, exhausted from the day’s ordeal.

Steve couldn’t understand it. How could Tony really think, after today, that he would be anything short of an amazing dad?

“Trust me, Tony; I know what a shitty dad looks like. And it’s not you.”

Tony looked at him; opening his mouth as if he were going to say something else- but maybe he saw something in Steve’s eye, something that showed he was going to fight Tony on this until the man gave in and agreed with him, so he shut it again and placed his hands over Fury 2.0’s ears instead.

“Language!” He hissed, before turning to walk out of the bathroom with a tiny little smile on his lips, and his using his free hand to stick the middle finger up whilst Fury 2.0 wasn’t looking.

Steve rolled his eyes and followed- never had he expected Tony Stark to steal that particular line of his. But then again- he hadn’t expected a lot of things about him.

 

 

At four am, Natasha came back from her impromptu gym session and trailed into the living room to watch a bit of shitty TV before dropping off to sleep. She had been awake for about thirty hours now, and reckoned there was nothing better than a bit of useless TV Ads to knock her off to sleep.

Upon entering the room, she noticed that she was not the only one in there. Tony, Fury 2.0 and Steve were all sat at the couch.  
Fast asleep.

Fury 2.0 was nestled up against Tony’s chest, her tiny hand pressed into the reactor as she slept. Tony’s head had dropped on to Steve’s shoulder, with one of his arms wrapped around the baby and the other thrown across Steve’s stomach.

They looked so peaceful. So freakishly domestic. Natasha almost wanted to laugh.

When she had first met Tony, he had been running; running from his responsibilities, running from his fate. It seemed he never stopped. His whole life, running and running and running.

Who would’ve known how he would turn out?  
Sprawled out on the couch he shared with five other people, next to the guy he was ridiculously, hopelessly in love with, and a tiny baby sleeping on top of him was probably not the first thing she would’ve come up with.

Natasha Romanov was not a person who knew what true, real contentment was. She had been brought up in a way that undoubtedly meant she never would.  
But looking at those three, she guessed it probably looked something like that.

 

 

 

 

When her parents came to collect her the next morning, crying and hugging and thanking them to the ends of the earth- Tony tried not to look sad when they drove away from the tower and back to where they belonged.

 

“She was called April. By the way.” Tony said, eyes still fixed on the corner that the car had just disappeared around.

“Nah. She’s Fury 2.0.” Steve replied, squeezing Tony’s hand and smiling softly when Tony leaned into him and sighed.

 

The parents called them three weeks later. Her first word had been ‘shitty’.

Tony made Steve wear Dum-E's dunce cap for the rest of the week. Including missions and briefings

 

**__**__**__**

“Do you understand the concept of an order, Tony?” Steve yelled, storming into the room and slamming his hands down on the kitchen counter, feeling it dent under his fingers.

“I don’t when the order being given is a shitty one, no!” Tony snapped back, hunching his legs up and resting a hand over his Arc Reactor from his place on the countertop.

All around them, the team shifted uncomfortably, muttering excuses as they slid away, until it was only Steve and Tony left, glaring at each other from across the room.

Taking a deep breath, Steve tried to lower his voice down to acceptable levels and get a hold on the anger rising in his throat like vomit.

  
“I told you. A direct order, to stand down, to hold your position-“

“Cap, I’d cleared out all the civilians like you told me to about ten minutes before-hand, there was no reason for me to stay!”

“So what, instead you decide to fly in blind, no idea what was about to come up to meet you? Why? Just for the thrill, for the fucking attention?” Steve yelled, moving forward and cornering Tony, in case he tried to just run away.

He could see Tony was seething; chest rising and falling and hands fisted at his sides. Even his hair looked angry- spiked up and messy from the fight they had just returned from.  
“You think it was to do with, what, my ego?” Tony hissed, jumping off the counter and getting right up in Steve’s face, his hands gesturing wildly.

A much calmer part in Steve’s brain noted down on his list _(There was a little freckle just above Tony’s left eyebrow.)_

"I went in there because you were in over your head, battling six acid-shooting fucks at once! Look at you, Steve; you like you’ve been hung over a fucking barbecue! Imagine what you would have been like if I hadn’t come in and hauled your ass out of there!”

“And in the process of you playing my knight in shiny fucking armor, you left Natasha exposed! I can handle myself just fine, Tony!”

“And Nat can’t? She had Clint covering her- you had no one. Do you expect me to say sorry? Because you’re gonna be waiting a long time, Steve.” Tony snarled, turning away from Steve and trying to walk away.

But Steve had had enough of Tony running away whenever things got difficult for him. He could be selfish and rude and arrogant all he fucking wanted- but he wasn’t going to do it in front of Steve.  
Snapping out a hand, he reached for Tony’s arm and held it in place, not letting the man move an inch.

“I’m so sick of you going off and doing whatever you damn well want. We’re on a team, and I am leader of said team. So when I say something, you damn-well do it. Why the fuck do you have to make that so hard, Tony?”

  
“BECAUSE YOU’RE MY FUCKING FRIEND AND YOU WERE ABOUT TO FUCKING DIE, THAT’S WHY!” Tony yelled, using his free arm to push Steve off and glare at him in fury.

And that was when it all went to shit- to put it bluntly.  
Steve was _done_. He was fucking sick of Tony, and his stupid laugh and his stupid face and his stupid stupid brilliance that never failed to amaze Steve. He was done having to wake up and watch Tony every day, watch him live and breathe and remain just out of Steve’s reach. He wanted Tony so badly it hurt; and hearing Tony say that Steve was his ‘friend’ just made something snap inside.

 

Fucking _friendzone_

 

And, you see, this was when Steve was supposed to say “But I don’t want to be your friend, Tony, I want more than that!” And then they would confess their undying love for each other and it would be all sweet and romantic and quite possibly incredibly dirty, if Tony had anything to do with it (not that Steve was complaining, mind).  
Except Steve bottled out half way through the sentence, doubt and fear clouding his vision and cutting him off before he could finish, and instead what came out was a very angry sounding “WELL I DON’T WANT TO BE YOUR FUCKING FRIEND, TONY!”

 

Everything went completely silent. Tony froze.

 

Their eyes locked, just for a second. And in that moment, Steve saw more hurt in Tony’s eyes than he had ever seen before. It was like the light, the little spark that seemed ever-present to Steve just… _died._

“Tony, _fuck_ , I didn’t mean…Tony-” Steve whispered, horrified, trying to push something out of his mouth that wasn’t just his name; something that would persuade him Steve didn’t mean it like that.

That he wouldn’t ever mean it like that.

  
But Tony was stumbling backwards like he’d been shot, gripping so tightly to his reactor that it looked as if the damn thing were about to crack. He wouldn’t look at Steve, and his hands were shaking as they dragged through his hair.

“Tony _please_ , wait, I-“

 

But he was gone.

 

The kitchen was silent again.

“Oh, _shit_ ," Steve cursed, a hand coming up to cover his forehead and another one resting on the table.

Tony had looked _crushed_. Steve didn’t even know…

 _(Tony cared about him. More than he’d realized.)_  
Oh God.

“Steve? You okay there, buddy?” Came Clint’s voice from a few feet away, and Steve realized he’d probably not stopped swearing for about three minutes now.

“No. Shit, Clint, I’ve fucked up.” Was all Steve said, and Clint moved forward, pulling up two chairs and tugging on Steve’s shirt until he fell into one of them.

“What did you say to Tony?” Clint asked.

“That I didn’t want to be his friend.”

“Oh, shit.”

“Yeah.”

Clint’s eyes narrowed, and Steve noticed the tiny twitch of his hands as they flexed for the bow that wasn’t there.

“But you don’t mean that, right?” Clint asked, his voice edged with danger.  
Steve sometimes forgot Clint was a super-assassin.

 

“ _No!_ Of course I fucking don’t! I was going to tell him I loved him but then somehow, because it seems I am King of Fucking-Up-Your-Love-Confessions, I ended up saying that instead.” Steve said, dropping his head into his hands and groaning for about six seconds.

When he looked up, Clint shrugged.  
“Yeah, that sounds more like you.” Was all he said.

“Brilliant. Does everyone know I’m in love with the damn guy?”

“Pretty much. We’re just waiting for you both to get your head out of your asses. Natasha has a betting pool and everything, it’s all very exciting. Darcy is about to make a lot of money if you can sort this out.”

  
“You got Darcy involved in this?!”

“Well, she got herself into it, really. She said she would bet everyone fifty dollars that you two would end up banging by the end of the year, and Natasha just asked if she wanted to join in.”  
Steve groaned again, and he felt a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“You fucked up, Steve. You know Tony; he’s gonna take something like that and spin it to mean that you hate his guts and want him off the team. But you can fix it. Just go tell him the truth.”

  
“He won’t listen.”

“Then don’t tell him. Show him.” Clint said, and Steve raised an eyebrow in silent judgment.  
_Show him?_ How the fuck was Steve supposed to _show him?_

Unless…

 

**__**__**__**

 

“Sir, I would just like to inform you that Captain Rogers has just surpassed the two hour mark of being sat outside your lab. He has requested you to allow him entry for the twenty-sixth time.” JARVIS called out to the silent workshop, where Tony was sat sulking at his desk.

“Tell him to fuck off, J.” He snapped, trying to focus on the specs in front of him, and not the sudden desire to get smashed on the nearest bottle of alcohol he could find.  
So what, Steve didn’t like him? Who cares, if the past six months of what Tony had genuinely believed to be friendship was just Steve feeling sorry for him? It didn’t matter. Tony had lost people he had thought were there to stay before.

This was fine. He didn’t need a fucking pity-friend, anyway.

It didn’t hurt like his arc reactor had just been ripped out again. It didn’t.

“Sir, I think he has something important to show you.”

“Do you think I care?”

“From what I can see from the cameras in the corridor- yes, I think you will care about this, actually.” JARVIS replied dryly, and despite everything, Tony felt his interest peak ever so slightly.

“What is it he wants me to see then, J?”

“I think you should see this for yourself, sir.”

 

Tony rolled his eyes and huffed out a dramatic sigh, debating whether or not he cared enough to let Steve in and see what it was. His principles were telling him to stay put; to let whatever it was go, and continue on his way of stubbornly ignoring the man.

  
Meh, fuck principles.

 

“Fine. Whatever. Let him in.” tony mumbled, rolling his chair so it was facing the door as he watched them slide open to reveal Steve, sat by the opposing wall.

Tony wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting. A stumbling, muttered apology perhaps. No eye contact, some bullshit excuse and a half-assed gift that he’d bought at a corner store, maybe.  
But Steve stood up, that same determined Captain America Look™ that he used on the battlefield, and walked right up to Tony without a single hesitation in his step. He kept his eyes fixed on Tony’s own as he thrust two books down in his lap, and then stood with his arms folded, obviously waiting for Tony to open them.

“Listen, Steve, I don’t care wh-“

“Tony. Open the damn books.”

He rolled his eyes and felt the worn-out spine, fingers slipping in between the pages as he turned to open. Really, for an apology, Steve was being remarkably un-apologetic.

He opened the bigger book first, a sketchpad by the looks of it, and flicked to the first page, where he was met with a sketch of himself, surprisingly, his face contorted with anger, and the background of the helicarrier drawn scruffily behind him.

On the top-hand-corner, was the date- a day after the Battle of New York. He must have drawn it as soon as he had whizzed off on his motorcycle.  
Flipping through to the second page, he found another. This time, of him sat slumped at a table, the Schwarma on his plate forgotten, as he stared out into space with an exhausted look on his face.

He turned the page. Two more sketches, one of him leaning on the countertops and grinning, the other of him explaining something or other, his hands in the motion of flying through the air as he spoke.

  
Every page- filled with pictures of him. Working, laughing, flying through the air. Some of them were just of hands or hair, and it seemed Steve had a particular interest in the Arc Reactor, because it kept cropping up throughout the book.

The detail was incredible, the pencil-strokes so precise, it was almost as if he were looking in a mirror. Steve had captured…everything. Right down to the double-crown on his head and the freckles that dotted his arms.  
The whole book contained nothing but him; and when Tony was at the end, he thought he had gotten the message.

 

“Steve, I-“

“Open the other one.”

Honestly, Tony had gotten so sucked up in the first book, he’d sort of forgotten about the other, smaller one that was tucked behind it.Dumbly, he nodded his head, and pulled out the small notebook to turn to the first page.  
There wasn’t a drawing- just one little note in the very middle of the page.

_He speaks Italian_

Brows furrowing in confusion, Tony turned to the next page.

_He has a girlfriend._

And the next.

_Regular coffee drinker._

_He worked with engines_

_Lip-biter_

_He has curled hair, but it’s too short to see_

_Freckles on his arms_

 

Page after page after page, each one with a different note. And after seeing his name in a few of them, he realized they were about him.

“Tony has to have his toast just so; the first piece of toast has to be buttered immediately after it pops up, so that it melts straight away, and there have to be two separate knives for when he spreads Nutella over the second slice of toast, in order to prevent double dipping.” Tony read out to himself, unable to take his eyes off the book as his fingers kept turning the page.

“You wrote all this. About- about me.” Tony said finally, stopping to look up at Steve.

It seemed some of his confidence had seeped out of him during the wait, because Steve was shuffling around on his feet a little bit, and there was a little blush creeping up his cheeks as it always did whenever Steve got flustered.

But it didn’t stop him from crouching down, his hands resting on the arms of the chair as he came face to face with Tony, that same look on his face, but this time softer, more sincere.

“Tony. Look at this, and tell me that you think I am anything less than embarrassingly in love with you.” Steve said quietly.

The words, ‘Tony was always a hero, in the suit and out.’ Rung in his ears, and his mouth remained shut, astoundingly unable to come up with anything that would disprove Steve’s statement.

“Thought so,” Steve said, before he was met halfway with Tony and an arm came up to pull their bodies closer, lips crashing together, full of desire and desperation and everything in between.

Tony felt his brain go into complete shutdown mode for a few seconds, because… this was Steve. Steve Rogers, kissing him. Tony Stark.  _ **Does not compute**_ flashed in his mind, over and over again.

 

Because this was impossible. This was so statistically unlikely that Tony hadn’t even theorized it as a possibility.  
This had always been one-sided. Tony had been sure of that. Even with every too-long-glance Steve had thrown at him, or each gentle touch that lasted a little too long, Tony had convinced himself that it was nothing. That it was just Tony’s imagination going into overdrive, just the product of his stupid fantasies.  
Because how the hell was Steve Rogers, Captain America and all-round-good-guy, ever supposed to love a guy like him?

 

But then Steve Rogers, Captain America and all-round-good-guy decided to bite down on his lip, and Tony quickly forgot about his internal breakdown in order to wrap his hands around Steve’s neck and press into the kiss, putting everything he had been trying to stop feeling over the past few months into it. Every longing stare that had always been missed, every disappointed sigh and resigned smile that Steve had never heard.  
Steve slid his hands through Tony’s hair, and Tony pushed into the touch, wondering vaguely if he was dreaming. It was possible; he hadn’t actually had proper sleep in over five days, and the recent fight may have caused a head trauma of some sort.

“I really hope I’m not hallucinating from my concussion” Tony breathed in between kisses, Steve’s breath ghosting over his face as he huffed out a distracted laugh and pulled Tony in again.

“You know, I’m still mad at you.”

“What a surprise,”

“You’re incorrigible,”

“And you wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Steve looked up, breaking away despite Tony’s protests, and smiled softly, placing a kiss on Tony’s nose, then Tony’s forehead, then his cheeks.

“No. I wouldn’t.”

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry it ended at such a random time, I just need to sort out and edit a bit of the second half so that should be up within the next few days, depending on how much time i have :)  
> Also, author does not do language. The Italian at the start is from notoriously shitty google translate, so please ignore it.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Steve Rogers is a Slut for Art (and Tony Stark) [PODFIC]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11436390) by [OscarTheSlouch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OscarTheSlouch/pseuds/OscarTheSlouch)




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